It quickly became obvious that Joel Jamison had been through this many times before, because things transpired pretty much as he predicted. He stepped to the portable lectern and held up his hands. Gradually, the mob quieted. He introduced himself and Clay, then Superintendent Callahan and Officer Blake. He also acknowledged the county sheriffs who were behind us, looking like a corps of bodyguards. He then briefly outlined the program before turning the microphone—or microphones, as there were more than a dozen of them attached to the podium—over to Callahan.
His statement took no more than two minutes. He explained how the Utah Highway Patrol had become involved when Officer Shayla Blake was caught up in the drama and played a significant role in helping capture two of the perpetrators at Leprechaun Canyon. He thanked the Deputy Director for keeping him informed and assured him that the FBI had the full cooperation of the UHP. “That concludes my statement,” he said, and stepped back.
The FBI’s statement was thorough but terse. Joel read it in a near monotone, without any emotion. He briefly outlined what had happened, not going into much detail, promising that the written statement included more. He said at least four times that since this was an ongoing investigation, etc., etc., etc. It was a pretty sterile outline of events. There was no mention of El Cobra by name, only that there were about ten perpetrators involved, who now were all behind bars. He mentioned the ransom demands without giving the actual amount. He did say that Cody and I had managed to escape, but gave no detail about how we had done that.
I have to admit, it was a bit disappointing because it all came out pretty flat. I was hoping he would at least mention how I had taken Gordo out by hitting him with the butt of my rifle. To be honest, I was still pretty pumped about that. That had been my idea, and it had worked perfectly.
The rest came in quick succession. The houseboat at Lake Powell, Cody and me going to Rick’s house for help, the exchange of Cody in Cathedral Valley.
Here again, I felt a little touch of irritation. He was really vague about Cathedral Valley and made it sound like Rick and I just did whatever we were told by the FBI. However, he did say that I was the one who did the actual negotiating with the leader of the gang, which led to the capture of two of their men.
Negotiating? Rick was blasting away at them with his rifle and I had mine pointed at El Cobra’s chest. Some negotiations. But at least Rick and I finally got a little credit.
He made no mention of Leprechaun Canyon but jumped right to the final day on the houseboat. When he paused to take a drink of water, several hands shot up. He ignored them. He finished drinking, wiped at his brow, and went back to his paper.
“Agent Zabriskie had several teams on the ground by that time,” he concluded, “but unfortunately, the head of the group had acquired one of our radios and was monitoring our communications. Things kind of fell apart there for a few minutes as the gang made plans to escape, taking Danni and her grandfather as hostages. That was also when Mr. Ramirez was shot in the leg by the gang leader.
“Fortunately, through some clever maneuvering, Danni and her grandfather managed to throw the gang off their stride, and we were able to move in and put an end to the whole situation.”
By this time, the corps of media people were stunned. He had just dropped about thirteen bombshells in his bored, tired voice, and they were totally blown away. They kept staring at me and Rick until I felt like a bug at a birdbath.
Lowering the paper from which he had been reading, Joel looked up. “That concludes our official statements. Copies will be made available to each member of the media at the end of the conference. Superintendent Callahan, Agent Zabriskie, Officer Blake, and I will now take questions.”
I thought that was an interesting way to put it. Take questions, not necessarily answer questions.
“Please, no questions for the family at this point. You’ll have that opportunity in a few minutes. Okay, let’s begin.”
I started counting. In the next fifteen minutes, I heard this phrase at least fourteen times: “We cannot comment on that aspect since this is still an ongoing investigation.” Not that it stopped the dumb questions. Where had these people gotten their journalism degrees? At the Walmart Customer Service Counter?
On the other hand, some questions were pretty insightful. For example, a scruffy-looking guy with a heavy beard asked: “Why would the FBI allow two teenagers to serve as bait to entrap professional criminals? Didn’t that put them in real danger?”
Joel calmly handed that one off to Clay, who fielded it with ease. “Let me make a couple of points. First of all, you have to remember that Danni and Cody were the only access we had to the rest of the family. The leader kept in touch with Danni via her cell phone. Second, we had credible evidence that it was counter to the gang’s interest to hurt the family in any way as long as they cooperated. Third, had we tried to intervene directly, we might have lost the family. So we assessed the risk, then set up a complete backup system so we could inject ourselves into the situation at a moment’s notice. If we hadn’t kept Danni and Cody free and in contact with them, this would have turned out very differently. ”
I stepped forward. “And fourth, that’s the way I asked that it be. They wanted to keep me out of it, but I knew if they did, I might lose my family.”
Joel frowned at me, but fortunately a hand shot up near the front of the crowd. Clay pointed to her. She had a KUTV-4 logo on her blouse. “This is for Danni. Tell us about Leprechaun Canyon. Is it true that you and Rick trapped two more of the gang members there?”
Joel stepped forward. “Hold on. Before we switch to the family, are there are any more questions for the four of us?”
It looked like there were, but I think they were more eager to have at us, so no one raised their hands. Joel waited for about ten seconds, then nodded at me. “Go ahead. But please note that Mrs. McAllister would prefer not to answer any questions at this time, so please honor that request.” Then he nodded at me to continue.
Remembering his advice about keeping things short, I explained how Doc and Gordo had intercepted us and taken Shayla Blake hostage as well, then briefly described what had happened in the slot canyon. I was careful to praise Officer Blake and Rick for the roles they took in all of it. Of course, I made no mention of the mysterious writing on the rearview mirror. Or of a kiss that occurred somewhere deep inside the canyon.
I had barely finished before hands were up, waving wildly, and everyone was shouting at me. Joel pointed to a man near the front with the logo of one of the Denver television stations on his shirt pocket.
“This is for Miss McAllister. Danni, could you describe how you and Cody managed to escape from your house when there were half a dozen men holding guns on you?”
Cody stirred beside me, but I hurriedly spoke up before he could blurt out something about invisibility. “I think there were eight in the house with us, and one of them was a woman.” I glanced quickly at Joel to see if he thought I was giving away too much, but he nodded for me to go on. “Actually, we escaped twice. The first time, my grandfather created a diversion, and Cody and I ran out of the house and hid in the attic. But they found us. The second time, El Cobra tossed a pistol on the table and it accidentally went off. When everyone dove for cover, Cody and I took off again. This time we hid under some hay bales in the barn, and they couldn’t find us.”
I was sorely tempted to tell them about Gordo and our brilliant little trap, but I pushed it away. “When the gang finally gave up and left, taking Mom, Dad, and Grandpère with them, Cody and I waited for about an hour, then took one of our four-wheelers and headed for Rick’s house.”
“Grandpère?” he asked, looking puzzled.
I smiled at Grandpère. “Yes, that’s French for Grandfather. Since my grandfather is French, that’s what we all call him.”
He started to ask another follow-up question, but a woman about three rows back wa
s waving her hand and shouting. Joel pointed at her. The others moved back a little so we could see her better. I was surprised at how young she looked—in her early twenties and probably out on her first big press conference. “Mr. McAllister, did you agree with the FBI’s decision to actively involve your children in the rescue attempt of you and your wife?”
Dad gave her one of his quirky looks. “Well, as has been stated, my wife and I and my father-in-law were taken hostage and rushed away to a houseboat on Lake Powell. So, it would have been a little awkward for the FBI to call and ask for our permission.”
She flushed as laughter erupted from those around her. “But—”
“But,” Dad went on smoothly, “my wife and I are completely satisfied that the FBI made the right decision.”
Obviously angry and embarrassed, she shot right back. “But what if things hadn’t turned out as they did?”
To my astonishment, Mom spoke up from behind Dad. “I’m not sure that speculation constitutes valid content for the six o’clock news. Are you?”
The reporter went bright red as there was a smattering of applause from the crowd.
Mom came forward to stand beside Dad. “I will say this much. As Carruthers has told you, she took an active part in that decision. Though she is only sixteen, she’s got a good head on her—” She turned and looked at me, and I saw that her eyes were glistening. “And she is incredibly brave. And, Rick—” She turned to him. “Rick is like a boulder in the middle of a rushing river. Always there, always steady, no matter what’s going on around him. Knowing he was with Carruthers was a great comfort to us.”
Rick the Rock, I thought. Not bad. I wondered if the media would pick up on that.
As other hands shot up, she went on softly, “And to be honest, we felt that they were not alone. My husband and my father and I were all praying pretty hard for some divine protection, and I think our prayers were answered.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joel tense a little, wondering if she was going to be more specific and mention Le Gardien, but she stepped back and refused to respond to the questions being called out to her.
And so it went. Someone asked Dad if we were wealthy, and if not, why we were targeted for kidnapping and extortion. Without mentioning rhodium by name, he told them briefly about the sale of the mine. “Somehow, they knew about that, and that was what they were after.”
The next question was for Rick. From Kirstin, anchorwoman of KSL-TV. “We know now that it wasn’t Danni who shot you, as originally reported. Could you tell us why you told everyone that it was Danni?”
He shrugged. “At that point, there were still some gang members at large, so we felt it best to pass it off as an accidental shooting.”
There was an instant eruption. Joel held up his hands and called out, “One at a time, please.” Then he pointed to someone in the back.
“How did it feel to be shot?” More groans. Another graduate of the Dumb-It-Down School of Journalism. With his usual laconic drawl, Rick said, “It hurt. A lot.”
“Why did the gang leader shoot you?”
Much better question. Same laconic answer. “Because I made him mad.”
“How?”
“I got in his face.” And he refused to give any more details.
Cody was next and quickly became the star of the show. He was funny, quick, droll, and delightful. And—no surprise—loving every minute of it. Clay finally stepped up beside him and would lay a hand on his shoulder and give it a little squeeze if he started saying too much. The media people loved that, too. No question about who was going to get the most air time out of this.
I was a little surprised that not a single question was directed at Grandpère. It was like he was a nonentity. Which was as he wished it, I’m sure.
The session came to an abrupt halt about five minutes later, when the same clueless young woman reporter blurted out a question without being called upon: “Danni, did anyone in the gang ever threaten you sexually?”
Joel quickly stepped up. “The answer is no, but that ends our conference.” Groans. Dirty looks thrown at the woman, whose head was up in defiance now. “Be sure to get your copies of the two statements before you leave. We’ll let you know when the next update will be.”
And just like that, we were done.
CHAPTER 16
Outside the Highway Patrol office, things were finally quiet. The media people were gone, the Hanksville people had left for home, and the Green River locals had finally decided that Joel was serious and there really would be nothing more happening today. Shayla Blake had already taken off. She was going south to coordinate handling the crowds with the Wayne County Sheriff’s office.
Inside, Superintendent Callahan had ordered in pizzas and soft drinks for us while we had watched the five o’clock news coming in from Salt Lake City. There wasn’t much. Even though they had the capability to upload their feeds via satellites in real time, the editors and producers back in studio would have to put things together.
We were the lead story. There were brief clips of Callahan and Jamison, then quick shots of me, Rick, and Cody answering questions. Kirstin Powers closed the segment with a promise of much more to come on the six o’clock and ten o’clock broadcasts. Then they went on to other things—all of which seemed deadly dull after our segment—so we turned it off.
At that point, Joel went into one of the offices and started making phone calls. Clay and Superintendent Callahan took the other office and started talking strategy. Mom and Dad and Grandpère moved over in the corner and began talking quietly. I could tell they were troubled by all of this. I thought I knew why, but I was still tempted to go over and tell them to chill out. It hadn’t turned out to be nearly as bad as I had feared.
I looked up as Superintendent Callahan and Clay came back out to join us. “You did well,” Callahan said. “All of you.” He looked at Cody and laughed softly. “I think I’ll request you for every press conference we have. You’re a natural.”
“Amen,” Clay said. “You handled yourself like a pro, Cody.”
Cody blushed a little—not because he thought they were overstating things, only because the compliment had caught him by surprise. I could tell that he was pretty pleased with himself.
“Unfortunately, it’s not over yet,” Clay said. “We didn’t give them much this afternoon, but that won’t stop them. These people are good at what they do, and you can bet they’re already out there digging hard for more details. By tonight, you’ll be the lead story on virtually every channel, and I predict you’ll be on the front page of the morning papers. This is too big—too hot a story—for them to simply let it die.”
Clay picked it up. “Not only that. I’m sure by now you three are burning up the Internet on Facebook and Twitter, and I predict that Cody’s portion of the conference will be viral on YouTube by morning.”
Cody was beaming like the fox who just got into the henhouse. Mom, who had turned around to listen, was not. “I guess there is no way to stop all that from happening?”
Both law-enforcement officers shook their heads. “Not now,” Clay said.
Callahan spoke up. “I know this is upsetting, Mrs. McAllister, but you’re going to have to face it sooner or later, so I would think sooner is better. Your husband was right. This is a feeding frenzy, and until they’re satiated, we have to be sure it doesn’t get out of hand. Officer Blake is on her way to work with the local deputies to keep things in hand. I’ve also asked for a couple of our officers from Richfield to come over to Bicknell and be there at the school before the kids arrive. We’ll also post someone near your home and Rick’s home to keep the media at bay. Oh, and there will be a deputy on the bus both going to and coming from school.”
“What about school tomorrow?” I asked. I was picturing what would happen when Cody and I stepped off the bus at Bicknell. To be honest, it wa
sn’t a totally unpleasant picture. It was time that Danni Oakley was put to rest and Danni McAllister got a little share of the glory, before Cody hogged it all. I felt a little stab of guilt. No question about who was the real glory hog here, but he had been awesome. And I was proud of him.
“Is all of that necessary?” Dad asked. “You’re not worried about physical threats to them, are you?”
“No, not at all. This is more like crowd control. We can’t stop a crowd from forming; we just want to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.”
There was a knock on the door, then another highway patrolman stuck his head in and spoke to Callahan. “Sir, we have the mayor of Hanksville here. He is requesting a brief audience with the McAllisters.”
We all turned at that. Mayor Brackston? That seemed a little odd.
Clay turned to my parents. “Any objection?”
Mom and Dad exchanged puzzled looks, then Mom nodded and Dad shrugged. “Why not?”
Callahan nodded at his officer, and we all got to our feet as he turned and went out again. A moment later, Mayor Brackston entered the room. John Brackston owned one of the two restaurants in town, and, as with many in the food preparation industry, the benefits of good cooking showed around his waist. He was about fifty, a jovial man with a ready smile and a strong handshake. Everyone liked him. But something about him was a little strange now, and for a moment I wasn’t sure what it was. Then I had it. He was wearing a suit and a string tie, along with his ever-present straw cowboy hat and cowboy boots. As he swept off his hat, I saw that his forehead was shiny with perspiration.
“Hello, John,” Dad said, going over to shake his hand. “Didn’t know you were here.”